A Spooks Anthology
by Rambling Scribe
Summary: A collection of poems and ficlets. Characters, series, rating and any spoilers will be indicated at the beginning of each chapter. Expect randomness...
1. Married Life

**Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC.**

**A/N: I've been thinking long and hard about what to post for my 50th fic and have finally settled on a collection of poems and ficlets rather than a single story. Characters, series, rating and any spoilers will be indicated at the beginning of each chapter. And as it's me, there will undoubtedly be randomness...  
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><p><strong>Characters: Ruth and Harry<strong>

**Series: Post S9**

**Spoilers: None**

**Rating: K+  
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**-x-x-x-x-  
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**Married Life**

You've been frying bacon again,  
>I know you have.<br>I found the empty packet in the bin.  
>And you've washed up,<br>And cleaned the kitchen.

(Even the dog looks guilty.)

We've run out of eggs,  
>Which is odd<br>As there were half a dozen yesterday.  
>So you fried bacon<br>And made French toast.

(You call it eggy bread.)

But you put the washing out,  
>Mowed the lawn and cut the hedge.<br>You even remembered  
>To water the hanging baskets<br>So I'm not angry about the bacon.

(Or the eggs.)

I found your best black socks  
>Or rather, the hoover did.<br>They were under the bed.  
>They got stuck in the vacuum.<br>It took twenty minutes to get them out.

(They're not for best any more.)

I forgot to collect your suit  
>From the dry cleaners.<br>But it was partly your fault.  
>You rang me,<br>I got distracted.

(I'm still blushing over what you said.)

I'll get it tomorrow.  
>Remind me at breakfast,<br>Before you kiss me goodbye.  
>Then remind me again.<br>Before you say 'I love you'.

(And then remind me again.)

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. :)<strong>


	2. Fragile

**Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC.**

**Series: 10**

**Characters: Ruth plus S10 **

**Spoilers: Up to 10.3**

**Genre: Angst  
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**Rating: T**

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><p><strong>Fragile<strong>

'_I'm sick of secrets; they stop you ever knowing people. Everyone ends up feeling alone.'_

She finds her way to the river, lured there by its cool familiarity, although this evening she has picked a spot well away from the all-seeing eye of Thames House. Dinner with the Home Secretary had been an interesting experience. She can't quite work out why he's wooing her, and wooing her he most certainly is. Whether his intentions are professional or personal remains to be seen and the uncertainty leaves her feeling off-balance, more so than usual. But once again she has vocalised her feelings for Harry, though not in gushing, romantic terms. She wonders why she seems to have these conversations in the most unlikely of situations. Maybe she should be worried that others can see so clearly that which she and Harry find so difficult to openly acknowledge.

They had been making progress, working things out, getting closer. His awkward invitation to accompany him to the reception had been both endearing and amusing. Then his gentle reassurance that they would fit into the glamorous surroundings had reminded her of his more appealing qualities. She'd enjoyed being on his arm, had relaxed a little, feeling grateful they were settling into a newfound ease in each other's company.

But then he saw Elena.

Dignified, graceful, sophisticated Elena.

The nakedness of Harry's emotions had felt like a punch in the solar plexus and with it had come the realisation that the Russian woman had been more than an asset. So much more. She'd known, even before the words had left Harry's mouth, that Sasha was his son. And now she is party to that secret; drawn deeper into Harry's life but discovering she barely knows him.

He hasn't quite let go of his past; she's not sure he can, not when there is a child as a permanent reminder of what he and Elena had. Something she'd had, briefly. Something she won't have again, not with Harry, not with any man.

With that thought comes the realisation that perhaps she _should_ move on; get away from the oppressiveness of the Grid and the suffocating grief that leaves her breathless and weeping. She wonders what it would be like to work in a place where you have leaving parties for colleagues instead of memorial services. A place where young lives aren't cut short and grieving relatives lied to.

She had meant what she said to Towers; she's sick of secrets. They're hairline fractures in life; apply the right amount of pressure and they crack open, spilling out their contents, revealing the fragility of things that had seemed strong and certain.

And everyone ends up feeling alone.


	3. Voicemail

**Disclaimer: Still not mine, obviously...**

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><p><strong>Series: Non-series specific. <strong>

**Spoilers: None.**

**Characters: Harry and Ruth**

**Genre: Poetry/Romance/Humour**

**Rating: K+  
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><p><strong>Voicemail<strong>

It rained earlier;  
>Big, fat drops that<br>Splattered on the pavement.  
>I watched the rain and<br>Heard your voice:

'It's coming down  
>Like stair-rods'<br>You said.  
>Only you didn't<br>Because you're not here.

I'm talking to the cats,  
>And the dog.<br>This is what you reduce me to  
>When you're not here.<br>We miss you.

I rang you earlier.  
>Did you get my message?<br>Well it doesn't matter  
>Because here's another one.<br>About rain and cats and a dog.

It's raining again.  
>I still miss you.<br>So do the animals.  
>Are you coming home soon?<br>I love you.

I hate voicemail.  
>Have I told you that?<br>But I want to hear your voice.  
>It's still raining.<br>I still love you.

I was in the shower  
>When you rang.<br>I'm sorry I missed you.  
>I still miss you.<br>I'll always love you.

I'm in bed when you come home.  
>I hear your car and<br>then the front door.  
>I know you say goodnight<br>To the cats and the dog.

And then your footsteps  
>On the stairs.<br>You try to be quiet  
>Because you think I'm asleep.<br>But I can't sleep without you.

You smell of the rain  
>And of coffee.<br>Your feet are cold  
>But your heart is warm,<br>And full of love for me

You hold me close  
>And kiss me.<br>You say 'I love you'  
>Then you tell me<br>You have a confession.

You save my messages  
>So you can hear my voice<br>Whenever you want,  
>Because you miss me<br>When we're apart.

I don't hate voicemail any more.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. :)<strong>


	4. Bliss

**Series: Late S9/pre S10. Or AU S10. You decide.**

**Spoilers: None**

**Characters: Harry and Ruth**

**Rating: M (to be on the sa****fe side). Adult language/situation.**

**Genre: Romance  
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**A/N: I haven't had a lot of time recently for writing so this is just a little something to get back into the swing of things. ;)**

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><p><strong>Bliss<strong>

She isn't drunk. She is not drunk. _Focus, focus on his shirt buttons. _Her fingers fumble but not enough to stop another plastic disc from sliding free, exposing more of his skin.

She's drunk. She's drunk and he shouldn't be letting her do this. But he wants to know how far she'll go. If she'll follow through on her slurred promise in the taxi. Her hands tug at his shirt, pulling it free from the waistband of his trousers. Guilt sparks in his veins.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" he asks.

"Course," she replies, swaying slightly.

She takes a few uncoordinated steps and he tightens his grip on her waist. When she lurches into him, he tries to ignore the pulse in his groin.

"Ruth?"

"Not drunk, Harry…really."

He should stop her but her hands are on his belt, pulling at the buckle. She surprises him (and herself) by getting it undone. The button is next and conforms to her wishes (and his long-held fantasy) by slipping free with little resistance. Next, she tugs the zip down.

_Fuck._

He hasn't been this hard in a long time.

_Fuck._

He's hard. Her fingers trace over him. He's _hard_. For her. She sobers, a little.

If she looked at his face she'd see the nerve just under his right eye twitch. It's a rare occurrence; very few situations trigger it. And only one person. But she doesn't look at his face; she's too busy deciding what to do next.

And he's busy fighting (and losing) the battle with his body. The decent thing, the _right_ thing would be to stop her, tell her they'll have a proper conversation about _them_ tomorrow (when she's sober). That's the right thing to do.

Her hands settle on his hips and he can feel her fingers grasping at the material of his trousers. He's almost undone, his mind, his rational self beaten into submission by the demands of his body.

_Focus._

_Focus._

"No, no, Ruth," he says, but it's too late. His trousers are halfway down his legs, heading towards the floor.

She gently caresses him. "Don't you like it? I thought all men liked it."

Somehow, he makes his vocal cords work. "I do like it. And you've no idea how many times I've imagined you doing it but not like this. Not when you're…not when you've been drinking."

"I'm not drunk!"

Her indignation distracts her and he wants to cry – maybe from relief, maybe from frustration.

"And don't tell me _you're_ drunk," she says, "no man can get like…_that_ when he's drunk."

She's right and that line of reason has gone in a heartbeat.

Taking his silence as consent, her hand returns to his groin, fingers firmly stroking him. She's shocked at her own boldness, knows it's alcohol induced but won't admit this to him.

He pushes himself into her touch because _fuck_, she is good at this and it's been a long time.

**-x-**

She's taken her top off and is wriggling out of her skirt when he tells her they're not having sex in the kitchen. At first she misunderstands and the old fear returns - until he kisses her.

"Bedroom," he says.

It's sweaty and a bit clumsy, but full of passion and tenderness. She's overwhelmed with sensation: the heat of his mouth on her breasts, his hand between her thighs.

He can't get enough of her, can't feel enough of her skin against him. Her hands are on his backside, pressing him closer to her.

It's bliss.

Pure, simple, uncomplicated bliss.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. :)<strong>


	5. Through a Hedge Backwards

****Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC.****

**Series: 4 **

**Characters: Harry, Ruth, Adam, Zaf, Fiona, Jo**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: None**

**A/N: Hello, it's been a while. Some fluffy nonsense, which possibly goes a bit 'Carry on Spying' at the end... **

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><p><strong>Through a Hedge Backwards<strong>

Busy trying not to drop files or trip over her scarf as she exited the pods, Ruth caught only the tail-end of Adam's comment.

"...he's obviously a bit old for getting his leg over these days."

Zaf laughed. "I wouldn't let him hear you say that though, or R-"

"Ruth! Hi!" Jo blurted out, saving her colleague from putting his foot firmly in his mouth. "How was the presentation?"

"Oh, fine, fine. I think it all went well." Ruth dropped the folders she was carrying onto her desk and yanked her scarf off, dumping it on top of them. "Put it this way, no one walked out or fell asleep."

"I'd call that a result, then," Jo replied.

"Is Harry around?" Ruth asked, looking across to his office and seeing it in darkness.

"He's in with Tom Lincoln doing a de-brief."

"That's Sir Thomas Lincoln, Lord and Master of Section A, to you," Zaf said, pinging a balled up piece of paper across his desk towards Jo.

"God, they're not still arguing over whose op it was?" Ruth said, shrugging out of her coat.

"You know what Sir Tommy's like," Jo responded as she deftly flicked the paper ball back at Zaf. "Anyway, he's got his eye on the DG's job. Rumour has it the old boy spoke to the PM and the Home Sec last week and formally gave his three months notice."

"I take it it's still raining," Zaf said, watching Ruth from over the rim of his coffee cup.

"And blowing a gale," Adam added.

"Yes," Ruth said, running her fingers through her tangled hair. "Ten out of ten for observational skills."

Jo laughed. "The dynamic duo won't be worrying the Met Office with their forecasting skills any time soon."

"Dynamic duo? That must make me Batman then," Adam said, lobbing a pad of post-it notes at Zaf, who caught them and started to tear off individual sheets and scrunch them up.

"No way, mate," Zaf retorted, bombarding Adam with several post-it note balls. "I'm most definitely Batman and _you're_ Robin."

"What were you saying when I came in?" Ruth said, hoping to distract the two men from their childish row. "Something about an over?"

Adam sat up straight in his chair and adopted a serious expression. "We were talking about Harry, Ruth. I'm afraid I have to tell you that he couldn't manage to get his leg over today."

As Zaf and Adam dissolved into a fit of giggles, Ruth blushed a particularly vibrant shade of red. Jo shook her head at the two men and then sneakily took the last two chocolate digestives from the packet that was sitting on the edge of Zaf's desk.

Trying to regain her composure, Ruth waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the forgery suite. "Well, I'm just going to..." She picked up the files from her desk and hurried across the Grid, her face still burning.

**###**

When Ruth returned some twenty minutes later, her younger colleagues appeared to be busy completing paperwork but at close quarters were still arguing over who was Batman and who was Robin. Seeing Harry was back at his desk, she decided to head for the relative sanctuary of his office.

"You're back," she said, by way of greeting.

Harry looked up at her. "I am. And you're looking rather...windswept."

"Yes, well it's still raining and still windy," Ruth replied, quite sharply.

"Right."

"I didn't know you were going out on this op."

Harry chose to ignore Ruth's accusatory tone and spoke calmly, "You were busy talking encryption, decryption and all things spyware to the bright young things."

"Yes, but you usually tell me."

"Ruth, you weren't here and it was a last minute decision. Not that I need to explain myself to you."

Realising she'd probably pushed harder than she should have, Ruth went for a more conciliatory approach. "No, I know that and it's not what I meant. It's just...well...Adam said you couldn't get your leg...that you'd hurt your leg. Or something."

"I'm fine. I just pulled my knee a bit trying to climb over a five bar gate." Harry sighed, "old age, Ruth. Twenty years ago I could have vaulted over it without a thought. As it was, if I had done, I'd have ended up face down in a very large cow pat. Like Adam did."

"He didn't mention that."

"Of course not. His ego is a bit dented. Not to mention he ruined that rather expensive shirt Fiona bought him for his birthday and he's no idea how he's going to explain it to her. Plus he smells like peaches and cream."

For a brief moment Ruth thought she had entered an alternate universe. "Peaches and cream?"

"Yes. He had to clean himself up when he got back here so he borrowed Jo's very expensive shower gel. I think he used the whole bottle judging from the smell. Still, it's preferable to cow dung." Harry pushed his chair away from his desk and stood up, wincing slightly. "Anyway, he owes Jo and has to face Fiona so he's indulging in distraction techniques."

"And what on earth happened to Zaf?" Ruth asked, "He looks like he's been dragged through a hedge backwards."

Harry laughed. "Spot on analysis. He saw Adam covered in cow sh-, cow pat, and decided he'd try a different approach. He got stuck halfway through the boundary hedge so I had to pull him back out."

"Did you actually manage to get the targets?"

"One of them. Luckily, Section A rounded up the others, once they stopped laughing at us."

"Hence your conflab with Sir Thomas."

"Indeed."

"Is it true?"

"Is what true, Ruth?" Harry asked, perching on the front of his desk and trying to ignore the nagging pain in his knee.

"That he's after the DG's job?"

"You know you shouldn't listen to the gossip in this place."

"I know. But is it?"

"Sir Thomas Carlyon Lincoln is a very ambitious man."

Ruth smiled. "I'll take that as a yes. Do you want a coffee?"

"Yes please."

"I think there's some chocolate biccies left as well."

"I thought Jo had eaten them all," Harry said, relaxing a little as his knee started to ease.

"I have a secret stash."

"I'm sure you have."

Something about the tone of his voice and the twinkle in his eye made the blush begin to creep back into Ruth's face. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, attempting to turn the conversation back to more manageable matters.

"I'm fine, Ruth," Harry replied. "Just the knee and a bit of a graze on my face." He turned his head so she could see the mark on his jawline.

Ruth moved closer to him to better see the damage. The skin was broken but it wasn't a deep cut. It had also been cleaned, which was an improvement on past performances. "I don't think it'll leave a scar," she said.

"So it won't add to my rugged good looks then?" Harry teased.

"Well...I...what I mean is..." Ruth floundered. "I'll get your coffee."

**###**

"I'll help, " Jo offered, following Ruth into the kitchen area. "Ignore those two idiots," she continued as she filled the kettle. "They both made tits of themselves today and are trying to deflect attention from themselves. Look, I'm sure Harry isn't too old. For...well, you know."

"Jo?" Ruth said, pausing from spooning sugar into a mug.

"Yes?"

"Stop now."

Jo made a zipping motion across her lips with her index finger and thumb and then smiled at Ruth.

**###**

Harry sauntered out of his office and stopped by Ruth's desk just as she set the tray of drinks down. "Mine?" he asked, pointing to a black mug that had 'No, this is not your mug.' written on the side of it.

Slightly startled by his appearance, she mumbled "er, yes."

Harry took a sip of his coffee. "Mmm, lovely," he said, looking Ruth directly in the eyes.

She cleared her throat and looked away for a moment. "About that other thing we discussed," she said, meeting his gaze again.

"Other thing?"

"Yes." She inclined her head slightly and then looked down. Harry followed her line of sight and spotted the new, unopened pack of chocolate digestives in the top drawer of her desk.

"We'll discuss those later," he said, quietly. "I think we should have some fun first." He took another sip of his drink. "Can you smell something, Ruth? I mean apart from coffee."

Puzzled, Ruth hedged her bets. "Um, I'm not sure. What can you smell?"

Harry sniffed a couple of times. "It's quite distinct," he said and began to slowly walk around the desks. "Ah, it's much stronger here." He'd stopped by Adam. "Yes, it's definitely coming from here."

Adam shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Come over here, Ruth."

She did as she was asked by Harry, having just realised what he was up to.

"Can you smell it now?"

Ruth nodded and then sniffed, quite loudly. "Oh yes, there's no mistaking _that_ smell."

"Oh, come on guys. This isn't funny!" Adam exclaimed, unable to keep quiet any longer. "I used a whole bottle of shower gel – there's no way I still smell of cow shit!"

"You don't," Ruth said, trying hard to keep a straight face. "It's most definitely peaches and cream."

They were still laughing as the pods opened and Fiona breezed in looking her usual unruffled self. She made a beeline for Adam and leant down to kiss him. She froze, lips pouting and looked at her husband.

"Where's your shirt? And why do you smell like Jo?"

"I can explain," Adam replied, aware that a domestic storm was brewing.

"It had better be good."

"It involves cow pats and showing off," said Ruth, helpfully.

"You might call it karma if you believed in that kind of thing," Jo added, smirking at the panicked look on the Section Chief's face.

"I don't know why you're laughing," Fiona said, turning to look at Zaf. "Jonny from Section A is currently entertaining the Duty Room with a story about you getting pulled through a hedge backwards by Harry. He has photos as well. There's a particularly good one just at the moment Harry managed to get you out."

"Please tell me you're joking," Zaf pleaded, standing up and grabbing his jacket.

"Sorry, but no." Fiona turned back to her husband. "But the best photo is of you, my darling, face down in the biggest cow pat ever seen. It's a classic."

As Jo and Fiona's laughter continued, Ruth took advantage of the distraction to retrieve the biscuits from her desk and return to Harry's office. After all, she had promised him a treat from her secret stash.

_The End_

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. :)<strong>


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